


By God do I Bleed

by send_tudes



Series: Oneshots [2]
Category: 16th Century CE RPF, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Gen, Im bad at this, Mary angst, death tw, henry is a prick as always, mary is depressed, mary misses her mum a lot, tw menstrual problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/send_tudes/pseuds/send_tudes
Summary: It's January 7th, 1536. The Lady Mary, abandoned by her father, receives most unwelcoming news.
Relationships: Catherine of Aragon & Mary I of England, mentions of mary & elizabeth
Series: Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831741
Kudos: 20





	By God do I Bleed

It was a warm night, dark and soothing, and there was peace. 

No peace for me, thought Mary Tudor as she gazed at the sky outside. Her head ached, as it had often done and her legs burnt. Unless she was very much mistaken, it had been seven days since her bleeding had started, and had yet not ceased. Why, just last month it had lasted a mere three days. It was a constant pain, but one she would endure a thousandfold if she could see her mother once. Just once.

“Oh, father, will you still not relent?” she asked, her voice broken and hoarse, her hand tight around the cross that rested on her chest. 

Three years now. 

She had neither seen nor spoken to either of her parents in three years. Would that god punished that witch who had cursed her father thus and turned him away from god. Anne Boleyn, too, had failed. She had but a daughter, Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth, Mary thought, was her only comfort. 

A child. She laughed merrily when Mary came to play with her; though her servants had frowned viciously upon the young woman. She stopped crying only for Mary. She would delight in her sister’s stories. She was free of all scruples of conscience. 

Family.

Little Elizabeth was her family. 

Would she suffer the same fate if her father turned on Anne the same way he had done to her own mother? Would she be set aside, tortured as Mary had been?

No. she would protect her sister. When her father would finally renounce his mistress and come back to her mother, as she was sure he would, she would talk to him. She would take Bess under her own protection. Bastard as she was, she would see every comfort. 

And Mary would see her mother again.

There were so many things she longed to talk to her about, and she could weep for joy to imagine when they would reunite, her father smiling upon him. 

Not long now.

She blew and the dim candlelight faded away, leaving the room in darkness. Mary lay down and closed her eyes, much comforted than she had been for a long time.

  
  


She had barely been dozing when sudden footsteps roused her. In the middle of the night? What had happened? She did not hear from the court often, was her father in danger? Mary’s heart shook but she steadied herself, pulling on her nightgown swiftly and getting ready to face whoever it was. 

“My lady!”

It was a lady of hers. Mary calmed to see her, the arrival of a friend comforting her nerves. However, her face was pale, her hands shook as she closed the door behind her. 

“What is it?” Mary demanded, determined not to let fear creep into her voice.  _ What had happened? _

The woman burst into tears.

“Speak up, lady!”

“The queen…” Mary’s heart missed a beat, “the queen, your mother, she...she is in the hands of god.”

It was a second before Mary found her knees colliding against the ground, her hand on the wall to support herself. 

“Madam…”

“Leave me.”

Her voice was not her own. It was as if a stranger had spoken from far, far away.

Her mother. Dead.

Gone.

She would never see her again.

Hastily, as tears crowded her face, she buried her face in the bed and yelled.

Yelled and yelled until her lungs went dry.

Did she even remember her mother anymore? She had not seen her in a long time. She clamored to gather her recollections. Her mother, looking on pleasantly as she played the lute, her red hair flowing neatly under her crown, Mary sleeping in her arms when she was but a small child, it was all dim. 

Why couldn’t God take her, too, then and now?

There was no one to live for anymore. 

Why had no one helped her?

Why hadn’t god helped her?

Her head hurt so much she felt it would burst.

  
  


Mary did not have the faintest inkling when she woke up. Her face was dry and her eyes still wet with tears. Why had she cried so much? Ah yes, that nightmare. She should be more in control of herself, she thought. So unnerved by a mere dream, it was unfitting of a princess. Surely her mother was in good health and would see her in no time.

She had dressed herself and gone out for a brief stroll in the grounds as she saw a familiar figure approaching.

“Your excellency?” she inquired thoughtfully as he came nearer.

Chapuys’s face was grave and cast down. Mary shuddered.

“Highness, my sincerest condolences.”

It had not been a dream. 

Mary needed to sit down. 

As the imperial ambassador looked anxiously at her, she sat, staring at her lap. She must not weep. 

But the tears came, as they did often, pouring down silently into her gown.

“What does the king say?” she asked, sparing no effort to steady her demeanor.

“Nothing, your highness. Yet.”

Mary nodded, her mind begging to rest. She did not hear Chapuys speak, if he spoke at all, she only wanted to hear one voice.

And accursed fate of hers, she would never hear it again. 

“Never forget that I love you most dearly and I will always do that.”

Her mother’s last words echoed in her mind.

No, she would never forget it. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is really short I'm sorry.


End file.
